Chapter Eighty-Six: The Desolate Plain of Pure Shade

The Desolate Yin Plain—this was the very heart of the Deathly Marsh.

Throughout the Deathly Marsh, the outskirts sprawled with countless bogs, and muddy, mire-laden ground was everywhere, leaving hardly a single dry patch to be found. Yet, at the center of the Deathly Marsh, the Desolate Yin Plain was an exception.

Here, there were no swamps, no omnipresent sludge; the land was mostly level. While not exactly dry, it was nowhere near as damp as the marshy outskirts. The Desolate Yin Plain was a peculiar place—above it, year-round, hung a shroud of ashen clouds, so thick that neither sun, nor moon, nor stars ever pierced their veil.

Perhaps it was for this reason that the Desolate Yin Plain was saturated with an oppressive yin energy, so heavy that any newcomer would find it hard to adapt. It was not particularly cold, yet the pervasive chill seeped into one’s bones, making one feel as if they’d wandered into a haunted realm teeming with vengeful spirits—a sensation that made the skin crawl.

Shi Yan, upon stepping onto the Desolate Yin Plain, furrowed his brow slightly and drew a deep breath. Even in his bones, he felt unsettled; though the air was not frigid, it was impossible to feel at ease.

Standing on the faintly chilly ground, Shi Yan cast his gaze around and discovered a profusion of strange and curious plants.

None of them were especially tall—the tallest barely reached five or six meters—but each was grotesquely formed, many bearing pallid, colorless blossoms devoid of vibrancy. Some of the flowers even resembled grimacing faces, rendering them all the more terrifying.

Among these bizarre plants, Shi Yan felt distinctly uneasy, always half-expecting one of them to lunge and sink its teeth into him.

“The yin energy here is strong, and the plants that grow are extremely bizarre. Some can even feed on yin and corpse energy, while others, at the scent of the living, will pounce and entwine, refusing to relent until their victim is dead,” Zhua Qi said darkly, his gaze lingering on the plants.

“And aside from the plants, beware the spirit beasts here. They loathe the living. Should they discover intruders, they will attack relentlessly. So, most martial artists, when passing through the Deathly Marsh, would rather brave the perilous outskirts than set foot in this place.”

A sudden hissing arose.

Silver-white serpents slithered out from the thickets ahead.

Each snake was about three meters long, wedge-headed, their tails etching circles in the dirt, small eyes glinting with a chilling, soul-piercing light.

Dozens of the snakes emerged, fanning out with cunning, slowly encircling Shi Yan and his group from all sides.

“Second-rank spirit beasts—Corpse Earth Serpents,” Zhua Qi spat coldly, then stomped the ground hard.

A strange ripple unfurled from beneath his feet, spreading outward in concentric rings, surging in every direction.

Where the ripple passed, the Corpse Earth Serpents exploded in showers of brown blood.

“I hate snakes the most,” Zhua Qi snorted in disgust, glancing back at Chixiao. “Until we meet the Nine-Headed Celestial Serpent, I’ll handle all obstacles along the way. Consider it my stake in the Heavenly Gate venture.”

Chixiao nodded. “You know this place best. Just lead the way.”

Zhua Qi did not argue. Taking the lead, faint green poisonous miasma drifted silently from his body.

As his poisonous aura seeped out, the plants of the Desolate Yin Plain shrank back in fear. Where once they stood three meters tall, after Zhua Qi passed, they withered to a mere meter, visibly smaller.

Shi Yan was amazed. His eyes sparkled as he studied the plants each time he walked by. Wherever Zhua Qi went, the flora remained subdued and docile.

But if Shi Yan strayed even a few meters off the path, the same plants would lash out, their tendrils writhing, poised to envelop him in a deadly embrace.

“Boy, if you don’t want to die a fool’s death, you’d best stick close,” Zhua Qi called back with a cold glance, muttering under his breath, “I just don’t get you people—knowing you’re coming here, you still bring two deadweights along. Planning to sacrifice them at a critical moment?”

Clearly, the deadweights referred to Shi Yan and Zuo Shi, the two with the lowest cultivation—both at the Human Realm.

Shi Yan remained impassive, unbothered by Zhua Qi’s grumbling.

But Zuo Shi would not have it. Pouting, she retorted, “What are you mumbling about, you old mudfish? Who are you calling a deadweight? Hmph! If you don’t want to travel with us, you can leave. We’d be just fine without you.”

“Little girl, who are you calling a mudfish?” Zhua Qi’s scaly, green-armored face twitched fiercely as he glared at her. “Say that again if you dare!”

“That’s enough,” Chixiao interjected, frowning. “Zhua Qi is our elder—show some respect. We wouldn’t have made it this far without him.”

Then he turned to Zhua Qi. “And you—why can’t you ever hold your tongue? If you hadn’t mouthed off back then, I wouldn’t have had to fight you to the death. Are you falling back into old habits?”

Zhua Qi snorted, casting a venomous look at Zuo Shi. His scales trembled, but he said nothing more.

Zuo Shi wanted to fire another barb, but Chixiao’s stern glare stifled her. She puffed out her cheeks and fell silent.

Xia Xinyan and the two towering men stood to Chixiao’s left. She said nothing, her expression cold, ignoring both Zhua Qi and Chixiao.

Every so often, though, her gaze would drift to Shi Yan, her eyes complicated, as though hiding thoughts none could guess.

Since emerging from the marsh that day, she had not spoken to Shi Yan again.

Shi Yan, for his part, took the hint and made no attempt to approach her.

The matter between them baffled Chixiao, Zuo Shi, and the others, but everyone feigned ignorance; no one was tactless enough to ask.

“Just keep in line. If you want to stay alive, behave yourselves,” Zhua Qi warned, fixing Shi Yan with another look.

Shi Yan remained calm, ignoring him entirely.

At that moment, Chixiao suddenly frowned, a trace of confusion flickering in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Xia Xinyan, ever perceptive, immediately picked up on his change.

“It’s nothing,” Chixiao replied. “Just now I sensed a strange aura, but it vanished in an instant. Perhaps it was just my imagination.”

At this, the group grew tense. Zhua Qi asked, “Could it be that Celestial Realm expert?”

“I don’t know,” Chixiao said, shaking his head.

Chixiao’s reaction cast a shadow over the group, making everyone all the more cautious.

…

Deep within a dense thicket of the Desolate Yin Plain—

A sallow, gaunt-faced scholar stood silently amid the foliage. At his side were thirty-five equally pale, expressionless martial artists. Among them, a young man barely over twenty, with waist-length hair and a handsome but sinister air.

“Master, did you discover something?” the youth asked curiously.

“Our target has entered the Desolate Yin Plain. When I probed with my spirit sense, another immediately chased after it,” the pale scholar replied.

“Was it someone from the Beiming family?”

“No, Beiming Shang arrived earlier.”

“Why hasn’t he contacted us?”

“Now that the target has appeared, Beiming Shang will come soon enough.”

…

A day later.

In the same region, Beiming Shang arrived alone, shrouded in cold air.

“Lord of Dark Underworld?” Beiming Shang greeted the scholar with a clasped fist. “May I ask your name?”

“Zou Zi He,” replied the Lord of Dark Underworld, his expression indifferent. “I have long heard of the Beiming Patriarch’s renown. Meeting you today, your reputation is well deserved.”

Beiming Shang’s lips curled in a faint, emotionless smile. “Brother Zou is the real legend. For Dark Underworld to rise to dominance in the Empire of Fire, it is proof of your extraordinary talent. May our cooperation bring mutual benefit.”

“Where is that Mu family girl?” the Lord asked with a frown.

“After this Heavenly Gate search, I shall personally deliver her to you,” Beiming Shang replied, his gaze sweeping the Dark Underworld group. “Brother Zou, why bring so many men? Aren’t you afraid of being discovered?”

“My people are masters of concealment. You need not worry,” Zou Zi He replied.

“Very well.” Beiming Shang nodded. “Our target is likely headed for the Desolate Yin Valley. Should anything unexpected occur, I hope you will intervene, though I’d prefer you not reveal yourself too soon. Otherwise, Mu Yudie will surely resist.”

“She’s just a pitiful orphan. Is that necessary?”

“It’s not Mu Yudie I care about, but the girl at her side. Her martial soul is of use to my Beiming family. I don’t want her to know I’m handing Mu Yudie over to you—that would interfere with my plans.”

“No problem. I’ve left my mask behind precisely to cooperate with you. As Lord of Dark Underworld, I rarely show my true face. Mu Yudie has never seen me; she’ll have no idea who I am. You can rest assured.”

“Good. We’ll meet again in the Desolate Yin Valley. I’ll contact you with spirit sense. Don’t let me down.”

With that, Beiming Shang retreated, his body dissolving into a wisp of cold mist among the leaves, fading away.

“Master, Beiming Shang is cunning and treacherous. Be careful in this Heavenly Gate search—he is no friend.”

“Don’t worry. Your Mistress is here as well. If any true treasure appears in the Heavenly Gate, it will belong to us, the Dark Underworld!”

“Mistress is here too?” the sinister youth exclaimed.

“Yes. She arrived at the Desolate Yin Valley ahead of time. With her mastery of concealment, unless she reveals herself, no one in the Desolate Yin Plain could possibly sense her presence!”

“Ha! Looks like this Heavenly Gate search is all but in our grasp.”

“Indeed.”

…